Books, Boys, and Basketball: Junior Year

FRIENDS

When I came in the house after my argument with Drew, eyes red and puffy from crying, Grams and I had one of the best conversations I've ever had with an adult to date. Unlike my parents, I can talk to Grams. She doesn't hold her tongue, but she doesn't lecture me to death either. If she thinks I'm not being smart about something she gives me THE LOOK, and every kid knows what the look means.

It's easy for me to be vulnerable and admit my faults with her because she doesn't see me as this unruly kid who needs to be slapped back into place all the time, and she doesn't hold them against me. My only gripe is that she sided with Drew instead of me when I wanted her to be on my side. Her exact words were, she is on the side of what's right.

GAG...

"Drew has been staring at you since you pulled up. You guys talk yet?" Nicole asks.

"I wouldn't call him spending the better part of twenty minutes telling me how stupid I am and verbally handing me my ass for getting sent back to Candor a talk. It was more like a one-sided shouting marathon," I huff. "I mean, I get it. I messed up. I should have just accepted my punishment and gotten over it, but I didn't, and I ended up in an even worse situation because of it. I'm trying to fix that, but he's mad at me for it. He feels like getting back at my dad was more important to me than being here with him, and that couldn't be further from the truth."

Nicole and Patrice both stared at me with raised brows as if my explanation has shocked them somehow. Bugging my eyes out at them when they say nothing, I ask, "What?"

Patrice is the first to respond. "Nothing. I just... I can't believe something penetrated that thick, hot ass head of yours," she smirks.

"And Drew has feelings?" Nicole feigns disbelief. "When the hell did this miracle happen?"

"You guys are terrible." I chuckle, shaking my head.

They walk me to first-period and then head off to their classes while I prepare for my own. The seat next to me groans and a large pack of Kit-Kat's lands on my desk in front of me. I glance over at Drew, realizing this is his way of apologizing for last night. He knows Kit-Kat's are my kryptonite. It's how I got my nickname as a kid.

A smile tugs at the corners of my lips. "Peace offering," Drew smiles apologetically.

"Offer accepted," I tear open the pack and hand him a piece.

"What I said to you last night and the way I spoke to you..."

"I deserved it," I cut him off. "You were right. I've been so caught up in beating my dad at his own game that I didn't stop to think about who I might hurt in the process. Myself included."

"Still, I shouldn't have talked to you that way. I was mad at you for letting your anger get to you, and there I was letting my anger get to me. I'm sorry."

"Everything you said needed to be said, regardless of the delivery. I'm sorry I hurt you. I didn't mean to."

Drew places his hand over mine and entwines our fingers together beneath my desk. His eyes meet mine before traveling down the length of my body, and the following look he gives me causes a million butterflies to take flight in my stomach. I'm flustered and fighting for air because he's literally stolen all the air from my lungs with one damning look.

His lips curl up into a seductive smile, and he laughs. Shaking my head, a smile escapes my lips. My cheeks turn crimson and I turn away, taking my hand with me.

I don't know who he thinks he is or what he's up to, but I'm not playing into it. I'm over trying to peel back and figure out the many layers of Andrew Taylor. Besides, by his admission, he's with Kimberly and I'm done with the whole him being a player thing.